First Life
by Kagha
Summary: Tahu awakens on an alien beach, confused and scattered. Upon assembling himself, he faces haunting questions. Orig. post date: 21/1/09


Darkness. That was all he saw, all he felt at first, just a swirling, plummeting, endless expansion of darkness. Not shadows, for there was no light; not blackness, for blackness is an absolute thing, something that is, and something of colour and substance. No. No more, no less, just inexplicable, indescribable darkness. The only thing besides was a nagging feeling in the back of… _somewhere,_ that told him that he was existent.

Then sudden light. Vast, microscopic, abstract specks floated from nowhere, splotching light and colour into the emptiness to create an image. There was a bowl that was the sky, and a sun that brazenly shone its rays across that bowl. Something came up from nowhere in a hill made of sand. There were rocks and trees nearby. There were also these jagged, pointed landforms – mountains. They were in the distance. Everything came into focus. Then there was something else, a sensation that followed. What was it? That sweet, encompassing sensation of pure sensation. It was the sensation of that coarse, powdery sand underneath, of the cool, wispy air all around, of energy running through impossibly apart limbs, of everything he was touching and of everything that touched him.

What came after that was a sudden rush of knowledge, limited as though it was. Knowledge of dreams before, and what dreams were, and how they were before, and of what was in them; and then of what was in the surrounding vicinity, and what surrounding vicinity was.

Of knowledge of a single being that was and would be known as "him".

He was apart, somehow. Physically. He felt legs, and arms, a body and head. He felt fingers, and what was under those fingers, that sand that he'd registered in sensation.

He did something.

He moved.

He moved his hand, single as it was. He used its fingers to drag itself towards an arm, which he knew was there through his sense of the pieces scattered on the beach. He connected it to the end of that arm, and began the gradual process of assembling his torn body, piece by piece. Time passed. Finally, he was done.

He.

Who _was_ he?

He, in his newfound shaped body, stood on small feet on the beach, and stared out into the horizon. Moored on the edge of the sand by sheer weight was a large, thick metal canister, with seaweed and barnacles hanging off its underside. Its large round cap was off. He reckoned this was the vessel he had been transported in. But transported from where? To where? Why? And how?

Questions. Many too many questions. He clenched his face into a frown and remembered something. A shining pole of light in a dim room suddenly surrounding him, and a voice, a vague voice. _"Tahu."_

So he was Tahu, then. But why? Why was he Tahu, for what reason? As he grimaced at the shimmering ocean before him, logical systems in his head eventually came to the conclusion that he should explore in his body, and find answers. Something inside told him answers would not be so easy to find. But they would come eventually, after all things, all small obstructions went away. In the bigger picture, answers would come. In the smaller picture, answers would come. In the meantime, he would search.

The Tahu looked around slowly. His vision was acute and had hazes of fuchsia at the edges, which he subconsciously knew must be from the natural glow that they emanated. The beach stretched out to the edges of the world in both ways. The sand in them sometimes looked soft and compact, other times there were rocks, both jagged and blunt alike, both large and small, littering them, sunken into the earth by years of lingering. But other than that, the beach was entirely empty. That was, of course, besides that strange blade-like object on the ground. It was in the shape of a leaping flame, and its hilt had a primal design and inscription in it. Fascinated, Tahu walked towards it, noting the sand that clung to his feet every time he brought them off the ground, and lifted it by the hilt. His hand fit perfectly around the handle, as if the thing were made to conform to his wrap. However, there were two problems. One, it was too heavy. And two, though he couldn't put his finger on why, it felt as if the blade held some sort of energy that would intertwine with his own, but he didn't have any as of now, so the combination was incomplete.

Tahu, regardless of the fact that this thing felt out of place for the time being, lifted the faded, stained red blade into the air and swung it around in practice. However, it was too weighty and sometimes dragged his arm further than willed, and he finally threw it down back into the sand with disappointment. "Useless hunk of metal," he said, using his voice for the first time. The sound that came out and the pump of his lungs and throat and the patterns of his tongue and lips fascinated him, though were somewhat customary.

With extending curiosity, Tahu looked around the beach for that other thing he'd seen, because he knew he'd seen something else. He didn't know what though. As he looked, he finally caught a gleam. Going closer, he saw that it was actually a smooth metal surface that curved out of the sand and reflected the sunlight. He bent down and pulled at it. Surprisingly, double the surface's mass came out from deep in the sand to reveal a long, round object with a hole in the middle of the bottom front, three slashes at either side, two small holes that could be eyes and a depression at the curved top. It could be a mask. It was a mask. Right? Tahu examined the thing from every side. It was smooth and sleek and not faded or worn in the least bit, but a fresh red colour. Shrugging, he placed it on his face. A surge of energy – not power, not motivation, not anything he could lean his vocabulary over, just plain energy – rushed through his body and he felt suddenly more alert, and he knew that a missing piece of him had just been put into place. When the jolt ended, he looked down at his body. It had been a dirtied, faded grey colour before, but now, it was a beautiful red with orange covering the limbs, and just as fresh as the mask had been.

An idea came to Tahu. He turned around and walked back over to where the sword had been. He picked it up from where he'd thrown it into the sand and fitted his hand around it like he'd done before. The energy it had and the energy he had met, and a brilliant fusion happened. He felt as if it were an extension of his arm rather than just a blade, and watched as the faded red it had been was exchanged for a vivid crimson. Tahu grinned in satisfaction. Once again, he swung it through the air. No longer weighty, it was like he controlled it thoroughly. Caught up in the exhilarating practice, he swung out again and again and then watched as the blade just – lit up. No more, it just lit up. A bright yellow glow swathed it, a soft blue where it most met the metal. He brought his arm in and made a jab, and sparks of fire flew into the air and danced around before vanishing. He stopped his swordplay and looked down at the blazing blade. With his will more so than his thought, he dismissed the fire that shone around it. "So that is why I am here," he said. "To control heat and flame. But for what reason and purpose?"

Tahu thought back to his decisions moments ago. "I will leave this beach and explore. The world is full of answers. Just search with eyes open." Where had he gotten that from? Was it was a quote from somewhere? No matter. He turned around and marched down the beach, silently marveling at the vastness of what was before him. Certainly it would have his answers. He went where the rocks jutted up and scaled them with effortless expertise. Steam and smoke rose up from a crevice down below and created a foggy wall. He stepped through without a care and paced deeper into the land, until the sea was no longer in sight. He was aware of all the smells and sounds around him, of the inertness of the black trees around him and the barrenness of the soil beneath his feet. He was aware of extreme heat, but not affected by it.

He was still unaware to who he truly was.

He was still unaware to what his purpose in this land was.

He was unaware he was unaware of things.

But most of all, he was still unaware that this would was the first day of his life.


End file.
